It happened again. Last night I had a repeat of an old familiar dream that entails a creepy old house.
In this dream, I’m usually at my first house in Chicago-a huge corner bungalow by Midway Airport. Back when the house was first built, it used to be owned by a doctor who had his practice located right in the house in various rooms on the first floor. When we pulled up the carpets, surprisingly we could see the spots on the hardwood where the examination tables used to sit. I loved this house, because it was filled with mystery, a gigantic full attic and lots of hidey spots.
Now, in my dream I am back in this house on Menard St. and I’m living there quite happily. Invariably I get to a point in the dream where I discover there’s a portion of the house I never knew about, or other times while dreaming I realize there has been a few rooms that have been closed off and I now want to explore them. Always, the prospect of these mysterious rooms leaves me with a haunting feeling. I can’t wait to explore, and yet it’s really ghostly but at the same time, I’m so thrilled to realize I actually own the part of this house that has gone unnoticed all these years.
What thrills me the most when I’m in the full thrall of this dream is the prospect of what these rooms have the potential to be. I have strong hopes of them becoming my art/sewing studio. The feeling I have when I’m viewing these rooms in their full color detail is one of absolute astonishment. How could I not have known these rooms existed? Why didn’t I ever notice the doors that lead to these amazing secret chambers? And most importantly, how can I occupy these rooms and keep them to myself? I’m really selfish when it comes the chance of having a space of my own.
These mysterious rooms of my old house have come to me during sleep and have thrilled me. At other times they’ve scared the hell out of me. One ‘episode’ left me terrified, like I was in a haunted house. Something telekenetically warned me not to open the doors because bad spirits were hold up behind them and once I opened that door, all hell would break lose. Of course, curiosity couldn’t drive me away, and ghostly troubles ensued. Scary as hell troubles caused me to wake up in a cold sweat with a pounding heart. Even still, ghosts and all, I wanted those rooms for my own to develop into a space I have been longing for all this time-an art room.
All this week my son and I have been cleaning the basement getting ready for a rummage sale on Saturday. With any luck, there will be a huge space cleared in the basement and with a little ambition I can whip up a sacred space of my own to spread out where I can allow my creativity to flow. But for now, I look forward to my next sleep when the possibility of those secret rooms will again come to me and set my heart pounding once again for the real thing.